


Shark in the Pool

by DeceitfulHonesty



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pool Table Sex, Porn With Plot, Strip Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceitfulHonesty/pseuds/DeceitfulHonesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shark: (n) In a game of pool, a person who performs some act or makes some utterance with the intent to distract or irritate an opponent so they do not perform well, miss a shot, etc.<br/>Which Jemma suspects is the only word to describe Daisy since she suggested a game of Strip Pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shark in the Pool

“Jemma! You made it!”

Bobbi greeted Jemma the moment she stepped in the door. People were milling about her house already and had likely been there for hours, since Jemma was late to the party. 

“Of course! I just had to finish up some things at work,” Jemma replied, giving Bobbi a quick hug in greeting. Jemma recognized most of the other party guests from past events that Bobbi had hosted at her house. They nodded in greeting as Bobbi showed Jemma around the spread of food. 

“Snacks are over here. There’s cheese dip in the Crockpot, extra chips stashed under the table if we need any, and drinks are in the basement. I think Fitz is down there as well,” Bobbi recited. 

Jemma thanked her and wandered towards the basement, stopping to chat with a few people on the way down. 

Once in the basement, she spotted Fitz leaning against the wall with Hunter, watching a rather intense game of pool. 

“Jemma, glad you could make it,” Hunter greeted. “Go fix yourself a drink and then come watch your best friend kick Mack’s ass at pool.”

“What? My best fr—”

Oh. Jemma glanced toward the pool table and saw who Hunter was referring to. It was Daisy Johnson. She was a coworker of Hunter and Bobbi who Jemma had met on several occasions. They were friendly enough. They had talked quite a bit in the past. And shamelessly flirted at the Christmas party after Jemma drank an entire bottle of Long Island Iced Tea on her own. 

Unfortunately, it had never gone past flirting. Something, or someone, managed to interrupt them all night, but not before everyone around them noticed their lingering glances. 

The memory of that evening still made Jemma blush and she hadn’t seen Daisy since, so she didn’t know if things would be awkward now. Jemma sidled around the table through the crowd to dig through the ice-filled cooler and grab a beer. 

On her way back, Daisy caught her eye. Daisy was bent over the pool table, nearly laying flat on it to line up a shot when Jemma’s movement must have caught her eye. 

Jemma flushed as she met her gaze, waiting for Daisy’s reaction. Daisy’s face broke into a wide grin as she took the shot and knocked one of the striped balls cleanly into a pocket. 

Mack’s loud groan distracted Daisy, allowing Jemma to continue over to Fitz, who was intently watching the game in front of him. 

They chatted about work and made small talk while they watched the game progress. Eventually, the only ball Daisy had left to sink was the black 8-ball, which was lined up so perfectly a toddler could have made the shot. Once the ball thunked into the pocket Daisy called out, she held out her hand expectantly to Mack, who grumpily slapped a $20 bill into it. 

“Mate, I told you not to take that bet,” Hunter admonished Mack as he retrieved his drink from beside Hunter. 

“It’s not his fault,” Daisy teased, “He didn’t know that I’m ridiculously good at pool.”

Jemma scoffed before she could stop herself, drawing the attention of the group. 

“Um, excuse you?” Daisy replied with a smirk. 

“Sorry, not to undermine your skill, but it doesn’t take much to be good at pool. It’s a simple application of physics and geometry,” Jemma defended. 

Fitz, Mack, and Hunter all wore similar expressions like they had just seen Jemma use a chihuahua as a football as they looked between her and Daisy. Daisy seemed more amused than offended. 

“Those sound like fightin’ words,” Daisy retorted. 

“I— What?”

“Why don’t you put your geometry where your mouth is and play me a round?” Daisy challenged. 

Mack snorted. “What, coming out $20 ahead already isn’t good enough?”

“Let’s make this more interesting than playing for money,” Daisy replied, smirking at Jemma with a mischievous glint in her eye. “For every ball one person sinks, the other person has to take off a piece of clothing.”

Strip pool. With the incredible attractive girl Jemma had a massive crush on. Great, what could go wrong? Although, Jemma was pretty good at pool (geometry and physics had yet to let her down) so maybe Jemma would benefit from this. 

“Deal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma was doing pretty well so far. She had managed to only lose her jacket and one of her shoes, while Daisy had lost both shoes, her button up shirt, and undershirt, and was down to a bra and jeans. Daisy circled the table like a shark each time her turn came up, scouring every angle for the best shot and smirking when she caught Jemma staring. 

Jemma tried her best to not stare, but Daisy was being incredibly distracting. Any time she bent over to line up a shot, she wiggled her hips while shooting Jemma a leering grin. She was especially bad when Jemma happened to be standing right behind where she chose to line up the shot. She spent twice as long lining up her shot when she knew Jemma was behind her, rocked her hips, and leaned unnecessarily low over the table. 

By this point, much of the party had started to thin out. Most of the other guests had either left or trickled upstairs to be closer to the snack table. Even Fitz, Mack, and Hunter had gotten bored (or uncomfortable) with Jemma and Daisy dancing around each other and went upstairs to start an argument with Bobbi about Star Wars. 

The less spectators, the better, in Jemma’s opinion. Since they were the only ones in the basement now, Jemma could ogle Daisy behind her back as much as she wanted without anyone teasing her about it later. 

Jemma was doing just that when she realized Daisy was finished with her turn. She had missed again, so Jemma was safe from removing anything. 

Jemma glanced over the table and found an angle that could work to get one of the striped balls in rather easily. Daisy continued to prowl around the table, looking just as comfortable in her state of undress as she did fully clothed. 

“I hope you miss this one or I’m in trouble,” Daisy commented. 

“Oh? And why is that?” Jemma muttered in reply, while she leaned over the table to line up her shot. 

Suddenly, Jemma’s back was covered by the heat of Daisy’s body as she leaned over to whisper in Jemma’s ear. 

“Because I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jemma felt heat rush to both her cheeks and jolt between her legs as Daisy pushed off and resumed her pacing with a fresh smirk on her lips.

Jemma hit the cue ball which skimmed off the ball she had been aiming for, making it spin but not go anywhere near the pocket. Jemma grumbled to herself for allowing herself to be distracted, but found her eyes drawn to where Daisy’s jeans were riding down her hips, now curious if she was telling the truth. 

Daisy took a maddening amount of time to figure out her next shot. Her eyebrows pinched together and her expression turned serious, as she leaned down at every angle, held up her cue stick to judge the angle, and then tried another spot. 

Then, finally, she stopped, her eyes flicked around the the table, and her face split into what Jemma could only describe as an evil grin. She slowly and deliberately lined up her cue and fidgeted around to get it at just the right angle. Jemma rolled her eyes. Daisy had done this for every shot so far and had only made two. 

And then she took the shot. The cue ball ricocheted off the walls, knocking into almost every ball and Jemma watched in horror as not one or two, but four of the solid balls slid into pockets. 

Daisy straightened up and leaned against her cue in a falsely casual gesture. 

“How did— how did you—” Jemma sputtered. 

“You know, 'just simple geometry and physics,'“ Daisy replied, imitating Jemma’s accent (poorly). “I believe that’s four articles of clothing.”

Jemma’s face blazed as she kicked off her other shoe and stripped off her cardigan, collared shirt, and pants. She glanced around the basement to ensure there were no stragglers watching and wrapped her arms around her middle. She tried not to notice Daisy’s eyes roaming appreciatively over her body; she was more preoccupied by her embarrassment with standing in Bobbi’s basement in her underwear. 

“Are you going to take your next turn or not?” Jemma snapped when she realized Daisy was still staring.

Daisy held up her hands in mock surrender and circled the table to line up her next, and possibly final, shot. Jemma’s heart raced. The last ball Daisy had to get in was the 8-ball and it seemed to be in a difficult spot. Jemma could only hope that Daisy’s skills would falter in this moment. 

Luck was not on Jemma’s side tonight. Daisy took the shot, the ball bounced off three walls, and fell right into the pocket. 

Jemma blinked owlishly at the table, hoping that she was somehow seeing things and she didn’t just get brutally beaten at strip pool. Daisy grinned her Cheshire cat smile again, circled around the table to stand between it and Jemma, and leaned against the table. 

“I think the last one should be winner’s choice,” Daisy said. She reached out and trailed a finger down Jemma’s sternum, pausing to hook the finger into the band of Jemma’s bra and tug her forward gently. Jemma’s breath hitched as she stopped mere inches from Daisy’s face. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said at the Christmas party.”

Jemma winced. “Which thing that I said at the Christmas party?”

Daisy smirked. “It was something along the lines of 'I want to sit on her face.'“

Jemma groaned and buried her face in her hands. 

“In your defense, I think you thought you were whispering to Bobbi at that point. Even though Bobbi had gone on a beer run and you were sort of screaming,” Daisy replied.  “So?”

“So what?”

“Did you mean that or was that the gallon of Long Islands talking?” Daisy muttered, suddenly looking a bit hesitant. “Your answer might affect my decision.”

Jemma frowned slightly and pulled her attention away from Daisy’s lips. “The fact that you can still make decisions right now is slightly insulting.”

“Wha—”

Jemma surged forward before Daisy could finish her question, pressing her lips roughly to Daisy’s and tangling her fingers into Daisy’s hair to pull her closer. A part of Jemma that had been waiting to do this for months cheered silently at Jemma’s burst of confidence. 

Daisy gasped at the sudden contact and Jemma felt her fingers dig into Jemma’s hips. Jemma took the opportunity to lick her way into Daisy’s mouth, eliciting a small groan from Daisy. 

Daisy had been teasing Jemma all night; it was Jemma’s turn. She detangled her hands from Daisy’s hair and trailed them down Daisy’s chest, lightly scraping her fingernails over the fabric of Daisy’s bra and then the smooth skin of her stomach. 

Daisy’s breath hitched and her body shuddered under Jemma, making her smirk. Jemma pulled Daisy’s lower lip between her teeth while she briefly fiddled with the button of Daisy’s pants. 

True to her word, Daisy wasn’t wearing underwear. Jemma slipped her hand down the front of Daisy’s pants, tracing her fingers along her wet folds as she could feel Daisy’s fingers digging bruises into her back. 

Jemma circled Daisy’s entrance, moving painfully slowly. Daisy growled into her mouth as her tongue met Jemma’s roughly, as if hoping that would force Jemma to move faster. 

Jemma teased her for a moment longer before sliding two fingers in. She gently pushed them in and out, gauging Daisy’s comfort level before adding another finger. Jemma thrust her fingers rhythmically until Daisy gave up kissing her and panted against Jemma’s shoulder. 

Jemma’s thumb found Daisy’s clit and circled around the bundle of nerves, dragging a small cry from Daisy that attempted to bite back. Jemma repeated the motion, pressing harder and pushing her fingers deeper, curling them slightly. 

Daisy was close, if her bucking hips were any indication. Her hands gripped for purchase on Jemma’s bare back and, when they found none, slid up and fisted a handful of Jemma’s hair. The sudden pull made Jemma gasp and she ground her thumb harder into Daisy’s clit in retaliation. 

That was all it took to push Daisy over the edge. Jemma could feel every muscle in Daisy’s body stiffen as a strangled cry erupted from Daisy’s throat, since she was still trying not to attract the attention of the remaining people upstairs. 

Jemma continued thrusting her fingers until she could feel Daisy’s muscles relax again under her. She withdrew her hand and settled both hands on Daisy’s hips to keep her balanced as she came back to herself. 

When Daisy met her eyes, her pupils were blown and she was panting heavily, with a deep flush spread across her cheeks. 

“Did that answer your question well enough?” Jemma asked with a smirk. 

“Yeah,” Daisy breathed out a laugh, “And it helped me make my decision.” 

Daisy flipped them around and pushed Jemma flat on her back on the table, knocking some of the balls out of the way, since the game was long forgotten. She hovered over Jemma and pressed a hard kiss to her lips before peppering kisses down Jemma’s body. She paused briefly to toy with the band of Jemma’s bra, but continued downward and trailed her lips past Jemma’s belly button. 

Daisy ran her hands down Jemma’s sides and rubbed her thumbs across Jemma’s hips, while hooking her fingers into her panties and tugged them past Jemma’s knees. She gently nipped and sucked along Jemma’s inner thighs, slowly moving up to the spot Jemma wanted. 

Daisy’s hot breath ghosted across Jemma’s entrance and she sucked in a breath. Jemma tried to keep her heavy breathing under control, but the light scraping of Daisy’s teeth along the sensitive flesh of her thighs was maddening. 

Daisy finally reached the apex of Jemma’s thighs and shot Jemma a wicked grin before running her tongue the length of her slit. 

Jemma gasped and dug her fingers into the thin felt of the pool table. Every twist of Daisy’s tongue made her hips lurch and she bit down on her lip to keep herself from crying out. Daisy swirled her tongue around Jemma’s entrance, occasionally licking her way inside, before flicking her tongue across Jemma’s clit. 

Jemma’s back arched off the table, pushing for more contact. Daisy flattened her tongue against Jemma’s clit and circled her tongue around it, holding Jemma’s thighs still. 

Jemma could feel the pressure building low in her belly while Daisy continued her ministrations. She gasped out Daisy’s name, grinding her hips to gain more friction. 

Daisy finally pushed her over the edge with one more flick of her tongue. A groan slipped out of Jemma’s lips as she rode out her orgasm, her thighs clenching around Daisy’s head. 

Jemma stared at the ceiling while she caught her breath. Daisy popped back into her field of vision, hovering over her and appearing to glow from the light on the ceiling shining above them.

“I take it back. You’re good at pool,” Jemma muttered. Before Daisy could respond, Jemma pulled her down for a firm kiss.

After Daisy pulled back for air, she glanced over the table and chuckled. 

“What?” Jemma murmured.

Daisy’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Uh, let’s not tell Bobbi how we put claw marks in her pool table.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr. Sorry, I don't write smut often (read: ever) so I did my best.  
> Find me on tumblr: sad-trash-writing


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